


I Got Kidnapped and All I Got Was This Cum-Stained T-Shirt

by beansprout



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Sex, Kidnapping, M/M, Spreader Bars, but like pretended kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-04-06 01:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19052716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beansprout/pseuds/beansprout
Summary: What it says on the tin. One of Prompto's fantasies is to be kidnapped by the "evil" Prince to be used as a sex toy by him and his two henchmen. The boys indulge him and act out his fantasy in the safest way possible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to get this out of my system. Lmk what you think and if you think any additional tag or warning should be added. Everything is perfectly consensual and safe and Prompto is having the time of his life!  
> First chapter is Promnis!

It was their suits, really, that gave them away.

Actually, it was strange already that Ignis and Gladio would burst into Prompto’s house uninvited. Not that he didn’t want their company, obviously. Prompto had said again and again that he would be happy to hang out with them at his home whenever they liked, but since the three of them revolved around Noctis, it seemed kind of natural that any hanging-out took place at Noctis’ apartment. It was a much nicer place anyway (there’s way, _way_ more room on the bed and in the shower). And, to be real honest here, Prompto didn’t mind the chance to get out of his house and be somewhere else every once in a while. 

Anyway, the only times Ignis or Gladio were in his house was when they dropped him off or came by to drop something off. To see them in his house outside of these contexts was little jarring. And then there was the issue of the door. The front door that Prompto was sure he’d locked – this wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where you could afford not to. 

“Hey, guys,” Prompto said, looking up from the fridge. “How did you get in?” 

The two men didn’t reply, only strode over to where Prompto was. It was hot, the afternoon too sweltering to do much more than nap on the tiles and soaking up their coolness. Prompto had just woken up from three hours of accidental catatonic unconsciousness, so he should be excused on how long his brain took to catch up with things. It was now that he noticed what Ignis and Gladio were wearing matching suits: generic-looking, with black jackets, black pants, white shirts, and black ties.

They looked… Well, there was no nice way to say it. They looked _cheap_ , which was out of character for them. Prompto wouldn’t pretend to know what their characters were like where suits were involved as he’d never seen them in suits before. But knowing Ignis and Gladio, it seemed obvious to him they would never wear anything less than bespoke suits of the best materials. So the suits that even Prompto could tell were cheap polyester and the cheap white shirts that were so new they still had the horizontal and vertical folding lines on them were incongruous enough to jar his sleepy head a bit.

And then Ignis crossed over and grabbed Prompto’s arms and twisted them behind his back, and then Gladio clamped a hand over his mouth, and it hit Prompto like a train.

Oh.

This was a scene. 

*

They’d discussed the idea beforehand, of course. The others had always been happy to indulge Prompto’s fantasies in bed, but it’d taken a bit of cajoling to get them to consider an actual scene. Think of it as immersive role-playing, Prompto had argued. LARPing, even? Does it count as LARPing? They’d talked about it at length, and Prompto thought Gladio had had to hold Ignis back from making flow charts and histograms and planning out every action in neat bullet points. That was not the point, Prompto had explained, and eventually Ignis had agreed to do things his way, though he still said “spontaneity” as if it was something gross that had stuck to his shoes. 

They had coaxed the fantasy out of Prompto – sitting him down and making him spill out the outline of his scenario (Gladio had had a smile like the cat that got the canary that only grew as Prompto spoke.) Then they’d picked a safeword (“viewfinder”, because Prompto was predictable) and made sure Prompto got used to using it. Sometimes Noctis would pop out of a literal bush (after having checked that no one was within hearing distance, hopefully) and yelled at Prompto, “Safeword!” If Prompto wasn’t able to produce the safeword on the spot, Noctis would spray him with the bottle of ketchup that he’d taken to carrying around with him.

(It was a recycled bottle of ketchup, cleaned out and filled with just plain water. Noctis could be a little asshole sometimes, but he wasn’t mean like that.)

(Prompto wondered if he was carrying that in the Armiger, or was it actually something that was beneath him?)

(Anyway, his face when Prompto had produced his own bottle of ketchup and sprayed him in retaliation had been excellent.) 

There were also contingencies for scenarios where Prompto might not be able to speak. Right now, after realizing that this was a scene, Prompto was frantically mentally reviewing the different hand signs and tapping patterns as Ignis tied his hands and ankles and Gladio put a gag in his mouth and a blindfold over his eyes. Then the two of them proceeded to carry Prompto out of the house like a sack of rice. It wasn’t as if Prompto was scared of any of this or that the scene was unwanted. If he was so keen to review his signals, it was only because he knew how upset and disappointed the others would be if he failed to use them properly if the need arose, and he wasn’t about to fail them.

No, he had to make sure his first scene was a ringing success.

Behind the blindfold, he saw the light of day – still quite bright, brighter than the dim and unlit interior of his house. He heard the sound of the car door, opening and closing, and felt the soft leather of the seat pressed into his cheek as Gladio laid him down on his side. Almost artfully, the blindfold slipped off then, allowing Prompto a view of the scene of his own kidnapping as it unfolded.

Gladio and Ignis leaned together to exchange a few quiet words before the car’s engine hummed to life and they took off. The windows were tinted, Prompto recalled. Ignis had had that done a while ago, and frankly it was a necessary extravagance. It would be a little scandalous if anyone caught sight of the Crown Prince’s friends kidnapping people. 

Except they weren’t the Prince’s friends in Prompto’s scenario. They were supposed to be the ‘henchmen’, Prompto recalled with a little surge of amusement. The silly polyester suits were costumes. They went and bought costumes to dress up in so they could play as themselves. That got a giggle out of Prompto, even if it was muffled by the gag. He could hear Gladio scoffing from the passenger’s seat. “For someone kidnapped by the evil prince to be his sex toy, you’re pretty cheerful, aren’t you?”

Even if he could have spoken, Prompto would have had nothing to say to that. He was _so excited_. 

*

Ignis had him spread over the kitchen counter, and that alone was a stroke of genius. It implied that Ignis was only preparing him like he would prepare, say, a slab of pork belly for dinner. Just a necessity, a mission – a need of his “evil prince” that he planned to satisfy, and Prompto himself was just collateral damage. A means to an end, an ingredient, even. It was objectification without even a word spoken and Ignis’ attention to detail made the fantasy complete. The man never did do anything by halves.

Unlike the flimsy knot of the blindfold that had been meant to “slip off’, the gag and the ropes tying Prompto’s wrists together behind his back were quite securely in place. Ignis had taken off the ropes that tied his legs and Prompto had immediately kicked out a few times in a struggle, but Ignis had easily seized his ankles and locked them into either ends of a spreader bar. He’d pinched the inside of Prompto’s thigh then – just hard enough to sting but not to leave a mark. “Behave,” he said, and his voice was cold enough to make a spy movie villain proud. “Don’t make this harder for the both of us.”

He hauled Prompto off to the kitchen counter, dragging his bare feet over the cold smooth tiles. As easy as you please, he had Prompto face down on the marble countertop, cheek pressed against the stone, legs spread at an awkward and obscene angle to put him on display. Then, Ignis moved to put himself in Prompto’s field of vision, giving Prompto a show of taking off his daily leather gloves and replacing them with a disposable latex pair. He pulled them tight and snapped at the latex. “Let’s make sure you’re ready for the prince, shall we?”

Ignis moved again, slowly and deliberately, eventually getting himself far enough behind Prompto’s back that Prompto had to crane his neck to catch just a bit of sight of him out of the corner of his eye. And then Ignis was leaning close – the front of his crotch pressing flush against Prompto’s ass, sending a surge of arousal immediately spreading through Prompto. He had not gotten a boner just yet, still a little overwhelmed by all this development, but now his attention had surely been seized by Ignis running his gloved hands up and down his side. 

Very close to his head, Prompto realized, there was a pair of scissors. Just as he eyed it, Ignis reached over to pick it up, and he snapped the two blades together a few times, making sure Prompto could _feel_ as well as hear the smooth _snik_ of metal on metal. Prompto squirmed. He squirmed a little more when Ignis slipped the scissors under his tank top, the cold metal pressing against the small of his back and moving upwards, the shears parting the fabric in a smooth sweet whisper. It was a sound dangerous enough to make Prompto shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the way the conditioned air hit his back when his shirt was split and opened fully. 

Prompto found himself marveling again at the precision of the plan and Ignis’ attention to detail. They’d ambushed him when he’d woken up from his afternoon nap, so he had only been wearing the oldest and most worn clothes he owned, clothes that had all but fallen apart from use. The hems on this tank top was already coming apart; there were holes in the yellowed fabric, and it didn’t have any nerdy print that Prompto would feel sorry about discarding. As it was, he felt no remorse when Ignis picked up the ruined shirt (with two fingers and a stink face like the face of the neighbor stray cat when it smelled any kind of citrus) and tossed it in the bin.

“I have to admit, His Highness might be spoiled, but he has good taste,” Ignis said, once he returned behind Prompto. The sensation of a latex-covered hand running down his back, pausing at each patch of freckles, was so strange. It was smoother that the touch of Ignis’ real skin for the lack of his callouses, but at the same time it felt less delicate, almost vulgar. At the same time, Prompto’s nipples were pebbling when they came into direct contact with the cool marble, and the sensation was insistent enough that he was desperately wishing he could get his hands on them. 

Prompto whined into the gag when he felt the scissors press against the small of his back again. This time it cut downwards, rending open the fabric of his boxers. The blunt back of the blades pressed against his entrance just once and he felt it tightening and flaring in reaction to the cold. The image was so lewd it brought a fresh flush to Prompto’s cheeks. Ignis disposed of the ruined underwear the same way, then he put down the scissors so he could run both hands down Prompto’s body. “You are a pretty one, aren’t you?”

The praise sent a shudder all down Prompto’s back, and now he could even feel his own dick pressing hard against his belly, against the chill from the countertop. He was starting to drool a bit behind the gag, and the wetness of saliva where it pooled on the marble could be felt sticking to his cheek. He had a brief moment of amusement when he thought about how Ignis would have to sanitize the hell out of this counter before he could work on it again, but it would be so worth it. 

Ignis must be thinking the same, because he was now toying with Prompto’s ass in a way that never failed to make his dick leak precum. He was circling Prompto’s entrance with a finger, the strange smooth-rough texture of the latex glove even stranger on Prompto’s sensitive skin. “So tight,” he whispered, and Prompto squeezed his eyes shut to deliver himself fully to the scenario. Never mind that he was definitely not tight, not virginally so anyway, and that he was more than accustomed to taking two dicks at the same time (because why waste time when you have three lovers to satisfy, thank you very much.) In this scenario, he was the virgin to be deflowered by the evil prince, and he wanted to act accordingly. After all, Ignis had done such a good job to be in character. “You have not been fucked before, I’d wager. Even with preparation, you’ll not enjoy what the Prince has in store for you.”

The preparation that Ignis had referred to weren’t long in coming. Prompto couldn’t help a shiver when he felt cold lube dribbled over his entrance, a generous amount of it, drenching not only his hole but even the inside of his thighs. Ignis’ deft fingers scooped up the excess before it could slide too far down the inside of Prompto’s thighs, and even that touch there was enough to send a thrill of anticipation through him. He whined and tried to close his legs – it was possible to pull his knees together some even with the spreader bars between his ankles, but that put him into a position of precarious balance with his feet off the floor and dangling in mid-air. Anyway, Ignis was having none of that. He simply pressed a hand to the small of Prompto’s back to keep him firmly flattened against the counter and stepped on the spreader bar, forcing his feet back to the ground, his legs straightened and his knees apart as they had been earlier.

“It doesn’t make a bit of difference, you know,” Ignis said, his voice so impossibly smooth it sent yet another shiver down Prompto’s spine. He was circling Prompto’s entrance with his fingers, taking his time spreading the lube out, and Prompto could almost scream with frustration and anticipation. His body didn’t want to act according to his role – instead, without Prompto even knowing it, his hips were raised up as high as he could, his legs trembling with the effort it took to be on tip-toes to present himself in the most appealing way possible. Ignis chuckled – a sound that lit a fire in Prompto’s belly – and slipped a finger inside him, the smooth slide of it against his inner walls enough to make Prompto moan loudly into the gag. “See?” Ignis hummed to him. “Even if you closed your legs, it would still be this easy. What’s important now is to get you used to this.” A laugh. “Something tells me you’re not going to take long to teach.”

Prompto could almost kick him, the charming bastard. There was enough lube that Prompto wasn’t getting much sensation from a single finger, and he was used to much more stretch than this. With his face down on the counter it was hard to have any leverage, but he did his best, pushing his hips back against Ignis’ hand. He was rewarded with a second finger and the scissoring motions that were now pushing apart his inner walls, allowing him to feel the beginning of the stretch that he craved. Prompto’s moan was a sob of relief, though it quickly became a squeal when Ignis crooked his fingers and _pressed_ against his sweet spot. 

“Too sweet,” Ignis chuckled, as if he was reading Prompto’s mind. Three fingers in now, in steady quick-paced thrusts that had Prompto’s heart pounding against his chest. He could almost hear his heartbeats echoing through the marble countertop to his ear, which was pressed right against it. His feet scrabbled uselessly against the floor, and his fingers flexed as if trying to claw at whatever they could from where his wrists were still tied together (It took a moment to occur to him to stop that, as Ignis might have to watch that kind of desperate movements just in case it was a hand signal. So instead he just tucked his fingers under the rope to stop them from moving.). 

The pool of drool under his cheek was growing enough that Prompto couldn’t see his breath forming fog on the countertop anymore. And his dick was _aching_. He was doing his best to jerk his hips, but Ignis had him securely pinned down. Unable to rub his cock against even the hard stone, he was so frustrated he could cry. It was only Ignis’ voice that guided him through the scene, reminding him of the scenario that Prompto had planned himself. “You’re enjoying this, I see. But you have no idea what’s in store for you yet.” 

A pause, where Ignis’ hand stilled, as if in thought. Prompto did his best to buck back onto his fingers, impatient, and Ignis gave him an admonishing slap on his butt. “Fingers and toys are all very well and good,” Ignis said, deliberately, slowly, “But it might be... kinder, if I showed you exactly what a cock feels like.” Prompto could almost yell _Yes! Yes!!!_ But there was still the gag, and this was supposed to be Ignis’ monologue. So he stayed still, only whining when Ignis pulled his fingers out, leaving his ass empty of even the slight stretch he had been latching onto. Almost distractedly, Ignis’ hands slid down Prompto’s hips, to his waist, where they slotted in as if Ignis was only casually measuring the width there. “Yes,” Ignis was saying, as if convincing himself. “I’m serving my prince, making sure that you can handle a cock. So that you are fully prepared and his enjoyment is complete.”

His hands left Prompto’s sides then, leaving chilly streaks of lube behind. The pressure caused by his closeness eased somewhat, and Prompto raised his head the best he could to look over his shoulder. Ignis had pulled back to undo his belt, then his pants, and he held Prompto’s gaze with an eyebrow raised when he let the whole thing drop to around his thighs. Prompto couldn’t be more grateful. He knew Ignis hated appearing like this – with his pants halfway down like some thug, and also with his genitals in great risks of pinching. But Ignis also knew Prompto _loved_ nothing more than to have zippers and belt buckles slapping against his backside as things got heated, and so Ignis pressed closer again just like that, and now Prompto could feel the slight weight of his arousal sliding up the crack of his butt. 

His cock was so tantalizingly close and yet so frustratingly far away from where Prompto wanted it. Ignis took his time, too. Instead of stroking himself to full attention, he was rubbing himself against Prompto’s butt for the friction, gathering up spilled lube to slick himself up as he went. From time to time, Prompto could feel his blunt tip pressing right up against his hole – but only for a second before it slipped over and away. 

“Don’t be so worried,” Ignis advised, pressing a hand to the back of Prompto's neck to stop him from craning it. He pushed him down, slowly but steadily, and if he dug his fingers into Prompto’s hair a little it was only to hold Prompto back from banging his chin on the hard marble countertop. “It won’t hurt, as you are well prepared, if I may say so myself. And you are about to be even more so.” 

Finally, blessedly, Prompto felt the tip of Ignis’ cock press right against his entrance. With a nudge, Ignis slipped in, and he steadily sank in until he was fully sheathed. The sensation of being full after all that teasing was phenomenal. Prompto didn’t exactly need it, but Ignis still paused for a moment, holding still to allow him to adjust to the stretch. All that did was to make Prompto want it more, but now with Ignis’ hands holding his hips down, there wasn’t much he could do. He was stuck there, tied up and pinned down without any option to move, completely at Ignis’ mercy and wanting to be fucked so badly he could cry. 

When Ignis spoke again, his voice was at least a little breathless, and the cadence of his speech was not half as fluid as it usually was. Prompto drew what satisfaction he could from that, but mostly he was so, so, so happy when Ignis started to fuck into him, even if it was slow and leisurely. “For your first time taking a cock, you’re doing beautifully, my boy,” he all but crooned, making Prompto melt from the inside like butter on a sizzling hot plate. “Ah, you like that. You liked being talked to. I can tell, from the way you blush. It’s a pity that you can’t see it yourself. You are rather pink from here to here.” With that, he touched Prompto’s shoulder, tracing a line down his back, making the blond shiver in delight. “And now it’s spreading even more.” His laughter was low and warm, almost as good as the quickening pace that he was now driving into Prompto. “It looks- ah, it makes a rather delightful backdrop for your freckles. All this soft skin – it's a pity only the prince can touch it.”

It was true that Ignis was still wearing his gloves, and what he said sent a surge of further arousal right through Prompto (if that was even possible). The idea that he had be stolen to be owned by Noctis, to be touched only by Noctis, and the thought that Ignis was helping himself to the spoils behind Noctis’ back – the entire thing was so deliciously _dirty_ it made Prompto see stars. 

He must have made a noise. He must have made a lot of noise without even knowing it, because Ignis was pulling at the strap of the gag at the back of his neck. It forced Prompto’s head up, and the ball gag was slotted a little more solidly against his mouth, pulling his lips apart further. He choked slightly on the saliva that suddenly rushed down, his throat bobbing as he worked on swallowing it the best he could without closing his lips. The straps burned against the corners of his mouth, but it only added to Prompto’s pleasure. The restraints, the way Ignis was making use of it to pull Prompto more firmly onto his cock, the muscle strains – everything was making Prompto so desperately hard, so close to the edge. 

“I’m sure you make delightful noises,” Ignis said, conversationally, even if his voice was now a little rougher. “But we can’t have Gladiolus hear you and walk in on us, can we? He’s such a good pet, he’d tattle to the Prince the first chance he got. And where would I be then?” Prompto whimpered. He would have to make sure to praise Ignis on the work he’d put into his character. And while it wasn’t part of the scene, Prompto knew that Gladio and Noctis were somewhere nearby, watching the whole thing unfold. 

He made a good show for them, arching his back and spluttering out another moan as Ignis drove deep into him. Now Ignis was as deep inside him as he could get, and instead of his long, deep strokes it was an almost desperate rut as he fucked quickly into Prompto’s ass. At one point, he shifted the angle of his hips, and Prompto let out a squeak and flailed out, acting on instincts even if it was largely useless. Ignis let out a breathy, “Ah,” and further adjusted his angle, so that he was hitting that spot inside Prompto consistently and continuously. 

With all of Ignis’ focus on him, there wasn’t anything Prompto could do except fall apart. He was probably still making noises, probably still flailing around helplessly, but he sure didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe he was trying to push his hips back against Ignis some more, maybe he was trying for some friction on his cock, so hard it was almost torture to keep on going this way. In any case he didn’t hard to suffer long – When Ignis entered him with one hard stroke, Prompto sputtered, and he felt himself coming hard, spilling himself where he was still pressed against the kitchen counter. 

If this was normal sex, he would be telling Ignis to keep going, that he could take more, that he didn’t want Ignis to stop. He was lucky that the man knew him well enough by now to do just that without needing any prompting. His orgasm prolonged into minutes of breathless delight as Ignis drove relentlessly into his over-sensitive ass, making him jerk and twitch and cry out with every thrust. And when it was almost too much, when Prompto was almost too sensitive to take it anymore, he registered a soft grunt from Ignis and a sputtering movement of his hips – signs clear as day that the man had just come as deep as he could inside Prompto. One, two, three further lazy strokes and Ignis was pulling out, releasing Prompto to flop helplessly against the kitchen counter again. Dazed, Prompto just lied there, listening to the sounds of latex gloves being pulled off, then the rustle of clothes as Ignis dressed himself. The cum and used lube were leaking from him in a sluggish trickle down his thigh, and Prompto squirmed when he felt it drip all the way to the back of his knee. 

It wasn’t over for him, though. When he tilted his head, he saw Ignis pulling the box of latex gloves closer, pulling out a fresh pair. “I can’t serve you up to the Prince like this,” Ignis said, almost conversationally. “Let’s get to cleaning out that cum from inside of you, shall we?”


	2. Chapter 2

Prompto knew it couldn’t have been hours since he’d left the kitchen counter. It was probably only fifteen minutes – half an hour, tops. But some time had passed, and to go from screaming, squirming orgasms to just lying here in the dark, well. He was a little bit bored. 

Ignis had done a thorough job at preparing him. After he’d cleaned out his cum – painstakingly scooping out small globs of the stuff, reaching impossibly deep inside Prompto with those long, deft fingers of his – he'd lubed up Prompto again, working a generous amount of lube all the way inside him. Prompto’s ass was already super sensitive by that point, and Ignis kept ‘accidentally’ brushing against his sweet spot – pressing down hard enough for Prompto to see stars several times but not enough to make him come again. Once that was done, he’d popped a plug in place – a plug strategically sized to stretch Prompto’s hole enough to be felt but not enough to enjoy, to reach just deep enough but not stimulate his prostate any more than it needed to be. Then he’d removed the spreader bar for just a while, so he could carry Prompto to the bed. 

It felt nice, to be cradled all limp and fucked out in Ignis’ arms, leaning against his chest, legs dangling and arms still tightly bound behind his back. When Ignis set him down on his bed, it was with impossible care and tenderness, and Prompto didn’t call him out for breaking character when he leaned in and kissed the top of Prompto’s head. In fact, all Prompto did was look at him and smile the best he could around the gag. It must have looked dorky as hell, because Ignis let out a chuckle, shaking his head with a fond expression that made Prompto feel all melty inside. 

Then Ignis got busy again. 

Prompto wouldn’t lie – his heart did an excited flop and even his spent limp dick twitched a bit when he saw Ignis pull out the rope. Ignis was _good_ with ropes – he was the one who did the more intricate work on Noctis when Noctis was in the mood. Prompto wasn’t necessarily into all the aesthetic or hardcore stuff that usually got Noct blissed out _before_ he was even fucked, but he did love a good rope restraint, and that, Ignis surely could deliver. 

Ignis placed his hand on Prompto’s chest and pushed – not with his entire hand, just with the tips of three fingers, with a little ‘it’ll be good, you’ll see’ smirk – until Prompto was lying flat on his back. Well, as flat as he could get anyway – his bound arms where still behind him and they made him arch up ever so deliciously, helpless to do anything but to be put on display for the man before him. Prompto kicked out once, just for the hell of it, but Ignis easily caught his leg and pinned it down underneath his own knee. Then he caught the other ankle and pushed it until Prompto’s knee was bent. He looped the rope around Prompto’s legs and worked on a series of knots at such regular intervals as if he’d measured everything with a ruler, until Prompto’s leg was tied to his thigh. Ignis repeated the process on his other leg, and before long, both of Prompto’s legs were trapped in a net of interlocking ropes, giving him no leverage to kick out and very little to just buck his hips and squirm around. Which Prompto tried anyway, until Ignis showed him how pointless it was by flipping him over like a pancake.

With Prompto on his front, his legs were spread, folded on either side of him. It left his ass utterly open and his cock pressed flushed against his stomach. Prompto was actually wanting some friction – but try as he might he couldn’t lift himself enough to rub himself on the sheet. Behind him, Ignis chuckled. “Oh my. You’ve had a taste and now you can’t have enough, can you?”

He was undoing the ropes that held Prompto’s arms. Prompto whimpered when his hands were free – but Ignis had done such a precise job at distributing tension that he hardly felt any pins and needles. Before he could do anything Ignis had turned him over once more, and produced a leather cuff out of somewhere Prompto hadn’t even suspected. He quickly clipped each of Prompto’s wrists to either ankle, and then, pulling up the spreader bar, he locked Prompto’s ankles and wrists into the most open position that the bar could afford.

The position left Prompto utterly vulnerable and open and with so few options of what he could do. As if to prove this to himself he rattled the handcuffs listlessly, and then just settled to wrapping his hands around the metal rod. His legs were forced open – and even if he tried to move his knees together, it didn’t change anything to how exposed his ass was. In fact, if he bent his neck, Prompto could even see the flared end of the plug peeking out from his hole – and he let out a whine and made a move to try and rock forward, to get the plug deeper into him, to very little success. 

Ignis chuckled again, though from the arched lift of his eyebrow Prompto could tell he wasn’t unaffected by the view. “Oh, there’s no need to be that impatient. Once the Prince gets here, why, you will be begging for a break.” He turned, and headed towards the door. “Rest up while you can. It won’t be long.”

 

*

Prompto was in the middle of flapping his bound legs like chicken wings to keep himself entertained when the door opened. Noctis strolled in and turned on the lights, and as Prompto’s eyes were still readjusting, for a second he was startled and wondering who the hell that was.

Noct looked... different. He was wearing a black suit like the one reserved for formal occasions – there was no way this one was one of the real ones, _those_ cost a whole lot of gils and Noctis might be rich but he wasn’t wasteful. Anyway, Prompto already knew how good he looked in a suit. What threw him was Noctis’ hair. It was all slicked back behind his ears except for a little spiky bang that was allowed to stick out to frame his face. He was grinning at Prompto and moving in that lazy, dangerous way that said that he had just fucked, and wouldn’t mind fucking some more. The action had given a healthy glow to his skin, and by the time Noctis got to the bedside, Prompto was breathless.

He looked so fucking _good_. 

Prompto began to whine as Noctis seemed content to let his eyes leisurely rake over Prompto’s form from top to bottom. It always did _things_ to him, to be under the intensity of that gaze, to be studied with such attention and interest. It felt like Noctis’ eyes saw right through him, and somehow Prompto’s dick stirred just from being looked at, and the plug inside him suddenly filled and stretched him as it hadn’t done earlier.

“He has always been good at presentation, hasn’t he—that dear Specs?” Noctis hummed, now reaching out a hand to touch Prompto. His touch trailed from Prompto’s knee, skidding over the loops of rope to slide smoothly over the taut, flushed skin of his bound legs. It felt like Noctis’ touch called Prompto’s blood to the surface to make the flush spread ever further, until, Prompto knew, every freckle stood dark and bold against his skin. The way Noctis’ eyes were roaming was indication enough that he was taking stock of every single one of them. 

Noctis climbed onto the bed then, pushing Prompto’s knees apart like opening a magazine. Prompto let out a whimper as it drove it the point of exactly how powerless he was to stop him. “Very nice,” Noctis hummed, his eyes very clearly on the plug in Prompto’s ass. He reached out and took hold of it, and Prompto could feel him wiggle and turn it inside of him, keeping up with the teases for a while until, eventually, he dipped a finger in past the plug and ran it along Prompto’s rim.

The stretch was amazing, and Prompto felt his legs falling open more. In fact, the spreader bar was in his way because it wasn’t allowing him to spread himself enough. Prompto tensed his neck, trying to look up, trying to peer at Noctis, but couldn’t see much even past his flat chest and stomach, and his now fully hard cock. He would’ve killed for a view of his hole as it clutched around the plug but still gaped open at Noctis’ prodding. 

Finally, finally, Noctis seized the base of the plug and carefully worked it free. Prompto let out a gasp around the gag. The plug’s removal came with a lewd sucking noise that kind of matched the flood of sensation that rushed through him. With the plug gone, his hole felt more stretched and more open than ever, and Prompto pictured himself gaping, full of lube, and just couldn’t understand why there wasn’t anything else inside him. The next time he whined, there was a trickle of drool escaping the side of his mouth, but he was too painfully turned on to mind. If he managed to look a little more pathetic, maybe Noctis would have pity on him and finally get around to fucking him. 

Noctis, the tease, had a heart hard as stone in such situations, however. Even if he had just come – no doubt fucking Gladio in the other room while Ignis was having Prompto on the kitchen counter - Prompto still didn’t understand how he could be here and not ache to sink his dick as deep as he could into Prompto’s ass. Especially since his dick was completely down with that, if the way it was tenting in Noctis’ pants was any indication. But noooo, Noctis had to take his time, well, dicking around. He tossed the plug over the side of the bed and spent a literal age fingering Prompto, ignoring how loose and open and relaxed Prompto was already. Despite himself Prompto found himself clutching at his fingers, as if by doing so he could convince them to stay inside him and fill him up, instead of doing this infuriating dance that kept him wanting. 

“Are you sure Specs hasn’t dosed you with something, too?” There was laughter in Noctis’ voice, and he sounded closer than he had before. Prompto opened his eyes – he didn’t realize he’d squeezed them shut – to see Noctis’ face hovering just above his. The man was sitting between Prompto’s legs, but he was _still_ doing nothing yet. Instead his hands were roaming Prompto’s torso – leaving streaks of lube on his skin – and stopped to pluck and pinch at Prompto’s nipples. “You’re salivating like a bitch in heat. Not very virginal of you, is it? Could it be that I judged you wrong? You aren’t so innocent at all.” He smirked, seeing Prompto’s look of anticipation, and delivered the final line that made Prompto’s fantasy plot complete. “You’re actually such a slut.”

Prompto keened at that, back arching. Noctis was moving with the flow, pulling on Prompto’s nipples so he was forced to arch some more, sending sparks of pain and pleasure radiating all over his chest. It got Prompto near sobbing with desperation, and when he pulled back it took Prompto a few seconds to hear the sound that he’d been looking forward to for so long: the rustle of Noctis divesting himself of his trousers, and positioning himself between Prompto’s legs. 

"This is in the way,” Noctis said, flicking his fingernail at the spreader bar, the hollow metal ringing out sweetly in reply and Prompto couldn’t agree more. He demonstrated, working his core and clenching his abs to try and lift his legs – but then the metal rod hovered between Noctis and him like a barrier. Prompto jiggled his handcuff emphatically, and Noctis had to laugh at that. “On second thought, I didn’t judge you wrong at all,” he said. “I knew you’d be a good toy. So easy to teach. Look at how eager you are for a cock to fill you up.” 

He leaned over to the side, fumbling with the mess on the bedside table. Prompto didn’t have time to crane his neck before he was already back, and he could see in Noctis’ hand a small, curved knife. It gleamed in the dim golden lamp light, and Prompto held his breath as Noctis ran the cold metal blade over his skin. Goosebumps prickled, but Prompto wasn’t even afraid. He knew for a fact that Noctis would never cut him, as it was something they had discussed at length before. It didn’t mean that the feel of that sharp blade against his skin couldn’t be so tantalizing. 

Noctis hooked the curve of the knife into the rope. In quick firm strokes, he sliced through each knot, unraveling Ignis’ handiwork one by one. Prompto felt the blood rush through him as his legs were released from the net, though the imprints of the rope on him still tingled, as if it was a live wire.

“Much better, isn’t it?” Noctis asked, almost tenderly. Prompto nodded frantically, and his eagerness must have looked ridiculous on his face, because it made Noctis laugh – snorting a little, even, breaking character and being undeniably Noctis. “Alright, slow down. I got you.” He cut the ropes on Prompto’s other leg, took a moment to put away the knife, and then, further taking his time, ran his fingers over the grooves and indents that the ropes had left on Prompto’s skin. “Very nice,” he said, distractedly, his eyes dark with admiration. Noct preferred ropes on himself, usually, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate it on other people. Prompto was just worried that, as he admired the imprint of the ropework, he might slip into another state of mind, one that wasn’t what Prompto was wanting right now. Huffing, Prompto rattled at his handcuff again, and that seemed to break the daze that Noctis was in. “Oh, right. You’re so damn impatient,” he laughed, and Prompto relaxed, hearing as well as seeing the edge of Noctis’ more dominant streak in his eyes. 

Noctis grabbed the spreader bar right in the middle and pushed it back. It pulled Prompto’s legs up further and further, until his legs were a wide-open V, putting all of him on display. Noctis pushed the bar further, testing Prompto’s flexibility until Prompto was indecently, obscenely open. Then he let go, and Prompto found himself fumbling to hold the bar in place himself. His legs were pushed back so far that he’d lifted his tailbone off the bed, and he locked his abs to keep that position – his hole at the perfect angle for a cock to plunge into. 

Noctis shifted closer, lined himself up – and finally, finally, pushed his length into Prompto’s waiting hole. It was all too easy. Ignis’ preparation, the lube, the plug, Noctis’ fingering from earlier – everything had relaxed Prompto to the point that he barely felt the penetration at all. It was only until Noctis was fully sheathed – all of him inside Prompto, reaching impossibly deep thanks to the angle, his cock pressing hard and heavy right against Prompto’s long neglected sweet spot – that the situation hit, and Prompto squirmed and wiggled at the delicious stretch, clenching hard around Noctis to feel him all the way inside. 

Noctis let out a huff as he was squeezed – a noise like he’d just been punched in the gut. Prompto couldn’t help a surge of satisfaction at, being able to wield any control at all over the situation all while being so thoroughly restrained. He preened, and it must have been obvious because Noctis scoffed and got back at him promptly – pushing the spreader bar further back until Prompto’s tendons and muscles screamed. His feet, he felt, would go numb soon enough, and yet the muscle strain was so delicious, adding to the sensation of being so completely invaded by Noctis. Even if Noctis didn’t maintain the pressure until it was painful, when he started on a slow pace, the spread still made sure he fucked into Prompto impossibly deep with each stroke, pulling out almost all the way and advancing in a rush, their bodies slapping together in lewd smacking, sucking, slippery noises. 

Distracted by, uh, other activities, Noctis didn’t keep his grip on the spreader bar all along. He would let it go slack, and Prompto’s legs would lower, and then it was Prompto himself who would snatch it back up. His palms were so sweaty but he was clinging onto the bar for dear life – gripping so hard his knuckles were white and his fingers cramped, pulling his legs up almost punishingly, but refusing to let up for even a single second. He wanted the strain, felt it pull the sensation from his prostate to spread all over his body. And he had to keep it out of the way too, so he could watch Noctis’ handsome face from this very flattering angle, as the Prince bowed his head in focus and quickened his pace, working them both towards their orgasm. 

At least this time no one could say that Prompto had come ‘embarrassingly fast’. Considering all the time he’d been left there to stew, all the teasing he endured and the absolute disadvantage of this position, it was a wonder he hadn’t come the moment Noct put his dick inside him. As it was, it took a particularly hard thrust, and Noct’s fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of Prompto’s inner thigh for the blond to come with a muffled scream. It was almost mesmerizing to watch his cock squirt out thick cum in spurts, and Prompto barely had time to turn his face so that one glob of cum wouldn’t land right in his eye, but on his cheek instead. 

Noctis took one look at him and he was bending Prompto in half again, fucking into him almost punishingly. He was hitting Prompto’s sweet spot consistently with each thrust, and Prompto whined deep in his throat as he felt himself getting bruised over that bundle of nerves. His legs were shaking, and his ass was squeezing frantically too, he couldn’t help it. It both seemed like no time at all, and forever, until Noctis let out a gasp and stilled, and Prompto felt the wetness of the cum as it leaked out the rim of his hole.

They were quiet for a moment. Well, they were both panting like bellows, but they weren’t saying anything just yet. Then Noctis let out a little laugh, groaning like he’d gone too hard at training as he straightened up a bit. Prompto heard his joints pop, and he could almost laugh too, but Noctis was pulling his dick out and that was more than Prompto’s oversensitive ass could ignore, even with how slick he was with cum and lube. He yelped when Noctis was all the way out, and let out a whimper of relief when Noctis helped him pull his legs back to a more restful position. 

There was a damp towel on the side table, rolled up all fancy like in a hotel. Noctis took it to wipe himself clean, eyeing Prompto smugly all the time. He didn’t offer Prompto any help. When he was clean, he tossed the towel away, pulling his underwear and trousers back on and making his suit immaculate as Prompto lied on the bed leaking cum from his ass and drool from his mouth. Prompto mumbled at him from behind the gag and rattled the chain, and that got a laugh out of Noctis. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you think you’re done already?”

“Sure hope not,” came Gladio’s drawl. Prompto looked over to see the man leaning casually against the door. He hadn’t even heard it open. Gladio was rubbing his hands together theatrically, and he looked to Noctis. “Your Highness,” the way he said it was so phony this was clearly a line in their scene. “You promised I could have a turn when you’re done. Can I have him now?”

“Sure,” Noctis replied, flapping his hand towards Prompto in an equally phony way. When they were done Prompto would have words with them about their acting. “I think his hole needs a little more filling. And call Ignis in here for me, wouldn’t you? He and I need to talk.”

_Wait wait wait. What?_ Prompto was still mostly floating in his last orgasm and it took him a moment for Noctis’ last words to come through. Not the bit about Ignis, because Ignis coming back into the room was an eventuality with the other two already there. The other bit. He almost still didn’t get it, not until Gladio walked over and grinned down at him. 

_Oh my god_ , Prompto thought dazedly. _He’s gonna cripple my ass and I’m gonna thank him for his time._ When Gladio put his hands on him it sparked a pleasure all over his skin, and a moan escaped his lips as the bigger man grabbed him around the waist and pulled him over. Prompto had no traction on the bedsheet, but he kind of had a mental image of the cum leaking from his ass leaving a snail trail on the bed only to be mushed over by his back, and the image sent enough arousal through him that he was almost certain his dick made a valiant attempt at twitching. It didn’t look any different, but Gladio must have caught it. 

He grinned at Prompto, his hand resting on Prompto’s crotch just above his dick. Prompto was positioned just at the edge of the bed, and Gladio stepped between his open legs, hemmed in close by the spreader bar that still linked Prompto’s ankles. Not like Gladio let that bother him, in fact, it seemed the proximity was all that he was looking for. His crotch was pressed right against Prompto’s sensitive hole, and if he minded having his clothes dirty up by the cum, he didn’t let it show. He leaned forward a bit and walked his hand up over the flat plane of Prompto’s stomach. Prompto wasn’t ticklish, but his whole body was still thrumming with sensitivity, enough so that a mere shift in position was enough to remind him of how his ass was throbbing. Plus, Gladio’s fingers were so light, the brush of them less than the touch of a feather, and Prompto found his abs tensing up hard, goosebumps rising to the heat that Gladio was radiating over his skin. 

In his daze, Prompto thought he could spend an age like this. Just staring into Gladio’s eyes, that ridiculously intense _smolder_ , just ogling away at him without being expected to do anything in return, or say anything charming. It was probably why he loved being trussed up and gagged and left to his lovers’ mercy so much – he could truly enjoy being a pillow princess and let them plunder his body for pleasure. He was lucky that his boyfriends didn’t mind doing all the work (well, maybe Noct has his lazy days but he didn’t complain, much.) 

Gladio’s fingers were dipping into the splatter of cum on Prompto’s stomach, the mess that he’d made of himself from his most recent orgasm. Most of the cum had drained off along the side of his hips (cum gutters, truly.) Gladio was gleefully making a further mess, just streaking the cum with his fingertips all over Prompto’s skin. He spread it as high as his chest, and then, using the cum as lubricant, he rubbed at Prompto’s nipple, plucking and flicking and pinching at them until Prompto was moaning in protest, his body writhing the best he could within the bounds of his bonds. Before long Prompto realized his thrashing was exactly what Gladio wanted, as he was rubbing his ass up and down Gladio’s clothed crotch – and the man’s interest didn’t take long until it made itself seen. 

“Ignis, there you are,” Noctis said. Prompto turned his head to look at him, biting on the gag not to moan. Noctis had sorted his clothes back into a semblance of order and he was now sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room, cross-legged, his chin on his hand and all. His pant leg was pulled up, revealing his ankle, the curve of his sock-clad calves. Prompto was no blushing Victorian lady but there was something about that whole thing that was so sexy he was almost ready to be fucked again. And judging from Ignis’ halting approach, the man must feel pretty much the same. 

“Your Highness,” Ignis bowed from the waist. It was pretty amazing how much context would do. Usually when Ignis said ‘Highness’ it was for an admonition and Noctis was in trouble. Here, though, that word carried all the deference it needed. Ignis wasn’t necessarily groveling, but it was a close thing. He went down on one knee in front of Noctis. “Is there something you wish to discuss…?” 

“I do indeed,” Noctis declared cheerfully. Ignis was close enough, but Noctis still leaned back, letting himself sink deeper into the armchair as counterbalance for his leg to reach out a little more, and he was pressing the side of his shoe to Ignis’ cheek. Prompto thought he wasn’t imagining the shudder that ran down Ignis’ form when he did that. Noctis traced Ignis’ jawbone with the smooth leather at the top of his shoe, until he tucked the tip under Ignis’ chin and tipped his face up. “Say, Ignis. I sent you to fetch me my classmate, a virgin for my bed.” Oh, gods, they were really faithful to the fantasy that they’d coaxed out of Prompto, and it was a wonder that Noctis was saying that with a straight face, since the first time he’d heard It he’d spit water out from his nose, and the second time he put his hands over his ears and went ‘lalalalala.’ “I did give you the order to prepare him, to get him ready. I don’t recall having asked you to do that with your cock.” 

Oh shit. 

Oh shit. 

This was not in the script that Prompto had given. This was _new_. And it made all of Prompto shudder as if stuck with static, his own toes curl. Oh fuck, he could see what would happen next and it was an invigorating thought, cursing through him. Well, it was not such a miracle that his dick sprang back to attention already, but it sure wanted to. Was this Noctis’ idea? Or was it Ignis’? Prompto couldn’t decide. Ignis was creative, but Noctis did have a stroke of genius when it came to tormenting the best of them in the best way. 

“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” Noctis was saying. He’d uncrossed his legs, but it was not to pull them back. His one foot had wandered down to Ignis’ crotch and he was nudging at the bulge there – Prompto blinked. He wasn’t mistaken, there was a very distinctive tent in Ignis’ pants. The man was as turned on as Prompto seemed to feel. “No clever retorts? Nothing to cover your tracks?” 

“None, your Highness,” Ignis replied. There was only the barest quiver in his voice to betray him – otherwise he might as well have been at his usual counsel seat. “I… let myself be distracted. I overstepped my bounds. It is a relief that you didn’t let yourself be fooled. Please, punish me as you see fit.” 

“You’re in an awful hurry to be punished,” Noctis teased. That bit was out of character, as was the little delighted giggle-snort that followed when he pretended to nudge Ignis’ cock one more time. Ignis was smiling a bit too – not denying this flaw in their scenario – before returning to his repentant, consternated posture. “Very well. I will grant you your wish. Take your clothes off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait! I've had parts of this chapter sitting around in my drafts forever, but it never seemed like a good point to end it. I was gonna end this chapter a little after this, but I keep procrastinating on it what with Promnis big bang and my life being pretty hectic. I figure I might as well post what I have so far! (it's not as if chapter separation in pwp would prevent you guys from enjoying the fic, right, right?)  
> Special thanks to Kika (https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kika988) for helping me edit and giving me anatomy tips! All hail the queen of smut, thirst supreme.


End file.
